All day beneath the hurtling shells Before my burning eyes Hover the dainty demoiselles -- The peacock dragon-flies. Unceasingly they dart and glance Above the stagnant stream -- And I am fighting here in France As in a senseless dream -- A dream of shattering black shells That hurtle overhead, And dainty dancing demoiselles Above the dreamless dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FANCY FROM FONTENELLE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON OUR CHRIST by HARRY WEBB FARRINGTON SONNET: 22. TO THE SAME [CYRIACK SKINNER] by JOHN MILTON THE VANISHERS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE THREE MUSICIANS by AUBREY BEARDSLEY SOLILOQUY; NOVEMBER 11, 1928 by N. R. A. BECKER HOW CAN I SING? by FREDERICK C. BODEN HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 6 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |